stand
by fear the unknown
Summary: RonHermione. —You can stand her a little more. Drabbles from first year to their final years.
1. First Year

**A/N: First in a little series I might do. First year through the birth of their children through their final years. It's going to be little drabbles. **

**Words: 523.  
>Paring: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written: September 1, 2011.**

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><p><em>[first year]<em>

You don't like her. To be honest about it, you absolutely hate her. You hate everything that has to do with her. She's rude, nosy, and needs to learn to get out the castle sometimes.

Everything about her annoys you. Her hair's too frizzy and too big and too brown for your likes. Her teeth are too out of proportion with her face—_throws everything off_, you think as she says something else involving Charms.

She's sitting next to you again, and it takes everything you have to try and not throw some kind of curse at her. Something that'll get her to shut up at the least.

So you take to laughing at her, making fun. You know your mum would be positively furious with you for making fun of a girl, but you don't think of that. You just think about what would happen if Fred and George saw this girl following you and your **famous **best friend around. You think about what Dean and Seamus say about her when you're all in the dorm room.

Obviously she heard you. You hear from Neville that she's been crying all day after you insulted her lack of friends. You shrug it off, not wanting to feel guilty.

So you go back to the Halloween Feast and forget all about the annoying, buck-toothed girl.

That is until Professor Quirell comes in, pale-faced and sweaty, screaming that there's a troll in the dungeon. You freak out, turning to Harry and waiting for Percy to regain order. Everyone's walking throughout the corridors, scrunched together with their Houses, following the Heads and Prefects. Suddenly, you hear Harry exclaim, "Hermione! She doesn't know about the troll!"

Both of you run off to the bathroom to find to your horror that the troll wasn't in the dungeons. He was in the girls bathroom, and you could hear a shrill scream of terror as you realize Hermione Granger was in there, petrified with fear.

Harry and you run in, distracting the troll from her. She's pinning herself in the corner of the bathroom, where one of the sinks had been ripped off. Her hair was filled with chippings of paint and water, and it looks even frizzier.

Harry distracted the ugly thing for a while, but after he ended up on top the troll, you decided you need to step in.

But then you remember; you don't know how to levitate something.

You do the first thing anyone would do: you look towards Hermione.

And to your relief, she shows you the movements for the spell. After you say it (you think later that the only reason she probably helped you was because she would have been bloody screwed if she didn't) the troll fell to the floor and the professors appeared in the doorway.

All three of you leave, freaked out, but unharmed. Hermione becomes your friend after that.

_Come on_, you think, _you have to be friends after a troll attack. Not many people can wake up in the morning and ignore one another if that happened_.

You can stand her a little more.


	2. Second Year

**A/N: Currently though, it's 1974, and my friend Isabella and I are on the train to Hogwarts, and we're hanging out with The Marauders, Lily Evans, Amos Diggory and Ernie Macmillan's father.**

**Words: 595.  
>Pairing: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written: September 1, 2011.**

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><p><em>[second year]<em>

You can stand the constant nagging about school work or something of that sort. You get this weird feeling inside you, you've noticed, when she stares dizzily at Professor Lockhart. You don't really understand what it is—probably brotherly 'love' as your mum calls it. You don't want her to get hurt, when the realization comes that he's way too old for anyone at this school and she's being silly with this obsession.

_Yeah, brotherly love_, you think as she goes on about Harry being Seeker.

Just as she's saying this, you see the Slytherin Quidditch team walking over to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Looking at her, you close your open book and set it down, nodding at her to get up and follow you. You know this won't be good, because you can already see Oliver Wood tighten his grip on his broom, and Fred's glaring heatedly at Marcus Flint.

Stepping silently up to the two teams, you and Hermione see that Draco Malfoy, the prick he was, bragging about his father buying the whole team new brooms. You, Fred, and George glare at him, for all three of you saw the look that passed through his eyes. It was screaming, **I have more money than you Weasels**. God, you want to punch him, but hold back as you hear Hermione start talking.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent," she says as you smile at her words. She's learning good comebacks since she's been hanging around you.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," Malfoy said, cradling his precious broom.

You suddenly see red, hating every single fiber of the blonde-haired arse. You see Fred and George jump at them, but are held back by Marcus. Oliver's glaring at them, his fists turning white. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell are shocked, their mouths half open as they held on to one another. Harry looked confused, and you figure it's because he didn't know the term. Hermione's face is in shock, (she has to know it's something bad) and you see her eyes darting back and forth between everyone on the Gryffindor Team.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" you yell and raise your wand, not caring at the moment that it's broken and this isn't the _best idea you've ever had. _

A green light shot out of your wand and you're thrown backwards onto the ground, Hermione already running to your side and helping you up. "RON!"

Harry's suddenly at your side too, and so is Colin Creevey. Funny, you don't remember seeing him.

You're sitting up, and big, fat, slimy green slugs are coming out of your mouth. You're embarrassed, your face turning that infamous Weasley red. Hermione looks disgusted and scared. Harry looks weired-out. Fred and George look worried, simply because they didn't know what was happening. Malfoy and the other Slytherin's were laughing, while Oliver was yelling at them to shut up.

"Come on," Harry says, "let's take him to Hagrid. He'll know what to do."

They help you up, but not before Colin gets a picture of you belching up another slug. Hermione puts her arm behind your back, supporting you as you keep throwing up.

She nods at your two brothers and they nod back, their faces grim. Only slightly though; you can see they want to chuckle at your expense.

You really hope that your mom won't hear about this. You don't need another Howler.


	3. Third Year

**A/N: Babysitting tonight in a Tropical storm. Going to read him Harry Potter as we watch the movies. **

**Words: 580.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written****: September 3, 2011.**

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><p><em>[third year]<em>

Her damn cat is always causing trouble. You glare at her as she pets the fat orange cat's fur and does her essay for Muggle Studies. Her eyes look confused, and her hair is falling in her face. She looks tired all the time, you notice, but you don't say anything since you're suppose to hate her at the moment.

Honestly, she's becoming a nightmare again.

You're only a few months into the new year, and you're already fighting. You lasted the last two weeks of the summer holiday not fighting with her as she stayed with your family at the Leaky Cauldron, but the minute she bought that ratty cat, you couldn't help but say something. He was trying to kill Scabbers!

You won't admit to anyone, let alone yourself, that you miss how she would help you with your homework. She was always the one to make you do it, and now you're barley getting anything done. You're surprised she can even get her work done because you remember when you came down to the common room towards two in the morning to grab a forgotten book and she was there, half-asleep, still doing Divination.

Though, you were quiet proud of her when she stormed out of Trelawney's class, not looking back, her back straight, her bushy hair looking more wild than ever.

But at this moment, it's midnight, and you haven't done your Potions work. You grudgingly look up to see Hermione still doing work for Muggle Studies. You wonder why she takes that class, since she grew up in a muggle home.

You decide that you need to ignore your inner pride and ask for help.

"Her-my-oh-knee," you stretch out her name, "can you please help me with this?"

She looks up, and you indicate your Potions essay. You see her eyes become slimmer and she looks up at you.

"Ronald, I'm busy."

You sigh and stand up, grabbing your essay and quill and walk over to her table. Even though you know she hates when you do it, you grab the current essay she's working on and holds it above your head, a smirk playing on your features when you see her stand up and try to grab it. This is why you love being taller than her.

You swiftly turn your back to her, causing her to stumble since she had been partially leaning on you. You hold your arm to her, making sure she's out of reach to the paper. She's fighting you, but you're taller, larger, and stronger than her thirteen year old self, so you can hold her off.

Your smile fades off you face when you see the name on her paper is in fact _not_ her's. It says in a small, neat handwriting, 'Harry James Potter'.

Suddenly, your pride steps back in and you turn around, your face gaining more and more color as the seconds go by. You speak through clenched teeth, "You're doing _Harry's_ essay?"

Hermione stands up tall, but still barley reaching your shoulder. She's angry as well, you can see it. "Excuse me, he's actually very busy at the moment, doing these you aren't. He needs his rest."

_She doesn't want to hurt you feelings, Weasley_, your mind tells you. _She must like him. __**A lot**__._

You hand her the paper, and slowly make your way back to your dormitory. You glare at Harry's sleeping form before going to sleep, not caring to finish your essay.


	4. Quidditch World Cup

**A/N: Not my best, but I decided to write since I wasn't feeling well and didn't have to walk in the parade with my band due to weather condintions. I think I got most of the facts right about the World Cup. Please correct me if I'm wrong.**

**Words: 1,182.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written: September 4, 2011.**

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><p><em>[quidditch world cup]<em>

**Dear Hermione,**

**My dad got some tickets to the Quidditch World Cup! Exciting, isn't it, yeah? Well, I was wondering if you would like to come. Harry's coming too; he said anything to get him away from his aunt and uncle, those crazy lot. Dad reckons I should tell you everything in this letter, even if you can't come. So your parents will know, I guess. **

**Well, first off, Harry and Dad are coming. So are Fred, George, and Ginny. Bill, Charlie, and Percy are coming too, but we're using something called a Portkey, and they're gonna meet us up by Apparating. You don't know Bill and Charlie, I don't think. Bill's the oldest, works at Gringotts as a Curse Breaker. I think you know what Charlie does—dragons. **

**We're gonna be in one tent too. Don't worry, it isn't like the Muggle tent, ours is magical, 'course. It can easily fit all of us. **

**I think we're meeting up with dad's work friend, Amos Diggory. Cedric Diggory's dad. The Hufflepuff guy that beat Harry when the Dementors came to the Quidditch game third year. Not to sure though.**

**But it's Ireland vs. Bulgaria. Krum's gonna be there! THE Viktor Krum. He's one of the best Seekers in the world! Think I could get his autograph, eh? **

**Also, since the game is so close to our fourth year starting, Mum said it'll be alright if you stay and just went to King's Cross Station with us. If it's alright with your parents, though.**

**Well, Hermione, it's up to you and your parents now. Mum's calling me down for dinner. Just reply back with our owl, he'll wait for you to reply if you give him some food. **

**-Ron.**

You have to wait for a few days until her letter returns. Your bloody owl is getting so old, you think mum and dad are going to have to get a new one soon.

Hermione's reply says she can come, and she just needed to know when you or your family were coming get her from her house in Muggle London. You forgot to mention it. You sent a quick letter explaining the game wasn't for another week and then they'd get to her house by Floo Powder. You already know she has a fireplace somewhere in her house because she told you when she explained she was going home for Christmas in your first year.

Sooner than you thought, a week gone and went, and you, Fred, George, and your dad were standing by your fireplace, Floo Powder held tight in each of your hands. Ginny was standing by your mum, still whining about why she couldn't go. _I'm closer to Hermione than Fred and George!_ she kept mumbling under her breath as Dad yelled out, "THE GRANGERS'!". Fred and George followed him; George going first, then Fred. As soon as the flames disappeared from Fred's quick dispatcher, you walk into the fireplace, yell out, and get swept away in the flames.

You land onto a soft white carpet a few moments later. You stand up quickly and look around. Your dad and the twins are standing by a staircase, and your dad calls out, asking if the parents of a one Hermione Granger are home.

You look towards the door of what seems to be a kitchen, and two people walk out. The female, who was obviously Hermione's mum, was a small women, who barley looked five-five. She was rather pale, her eyes a dark green. Her hair was bushy like Hermione's, though not as crazy. She had square glasses perched on her nose, a cooking apron around her waist.

Hermione's father was next to his wife. He had brown eyes, and a small patch of freckles covered his face area. _Nothing compared to your own freckles, _you notice as you pull down the sleeve of your too-short shirt. He was a tall man, towering over you and your father. He seemed kind enough when he finally smiled as he took in that your family wasn't a threat.

"Hello, is Hermione home? I'm Arthur Weasley," your dad says, shaking the other man's hand rather happily. You hear him mumble something about how fascinating Muggles are when he looks over at some box looking thing with moving pictures on it, and voices coming from it.

"She is. I think she's upstairs in her room. I think my wife will fetch her, won't you, Karen?" the man asked his wife. She smiled at him, nodding. She began walking up the stairs, calling out to Hermione. "I'm Richard, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Richard!" Your dad looks around to the three of you. "Aren't you going to introduce yourselves, my boys?"

"I'm Fred—" Fred begins.

"And I'm George—" George cuts in.

"Together we make—"

"—the unstoppable Weasley twins," they finish together. You can see the confusion etched in Mr. Granger's eyes, but you probably would be confused too, if you hadn't of grown up with them for the last fourteen years.

The twins, your dad, and Mr. Granger look at you now. You begin tugging on your sleeve again, nervous. You smile slightly.

"I'm Ron," you say simply.

"Ah, so your Ronald. We've heard…much about you," Mr. Granger begins, just as you hear Hermione calling out,

"You guys made it!"

You smile and nod. "Yeah, not a scratch on any of us." She laughs and sets her bag down, which is filled with everything she'd need for the upcoming year. Your dad grabs hold of it, and takes a bag of Floo Powder from his pocket.

"We must be heading off now. Can't have your mum getting worried, now can we?" he asks.

Fred and George both take handfuls, and each of them go into the fire and yell, "THE BURROW!" before disappearing again. Hermione and her parents look at the smoke from the fire with their eyes wide. "Magic is truly amazing," you hear Hermione whisper. You nudge her arm slightly with your elbow. Your dad smiles at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, hands you the bag of Floo, then steps into the fire, leaving as quickly as he came.

"Maybe you should go next, Hermione," you say as she takes some of the powder from the bag, nervously shifting back and forth on the heels of her feet. "Come on, where's that Gryffindor spirit I know you've got?"

She laughs again, looks back at her parents, and then steps into the fireplace. Just as she's about to yell out 'The Burrow', she says, "Ron, you have some dirt on your nose. Just there." She points to her own nose. Then, giggling, she yells out and a flame appeared around her, taking her to your home.

You wipe at your nose viciously before you bid her mum and dad a quick goodbye and leaving. You feel your face turn red as you fall down again, this time in your own house.


	5. Fourth Year

**A/N: I've been in a writing mood for some reason. Alas, hint: I threw in some Ernie and Hermione, because for some reason, I think they'd be darling together. I'm tempted to write a fan fiction about those two. **

**Words: 579.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written: September 5, 2011.**

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><p><em>[fourth year]<em>

You notice a lot of things at the Yule Ball. One, that your Hermione is dancing with Viktor Krum, someone you use to call your idol. _Use, is the key word_, you think as Krum twirls Hermione around in a circle, laughing at something that probably wasn't even funny.

You know she's a girl. Hell, you noticed it as Harry, you, and her were on the train riding to Hogwarts. All three of you had gotten a compartment to yourselves, and she was wearing a pink sweater that hugged her upper body quite well.

Your pretty sure other boys in your year noticed that too.

You overheard Seamus telling Dean that she'd matured **very **well since third year. Dean had laughed and agreed, saying if she did something with that frizz ball called her hair, she'd be a very good girl to date. They had thought you were sleeping since your curtains on your four-poster were drawn shut, but you heard every word, your fingernails digging into the inside of your hand.

You also recall seeing Ernie Macmillan, a fellow fourth year, walking with her on the grounds. This had been when you and Harry weren't talking, and she had become fed up with running between you. She had shed her robes, just clad in her white buttoned shirt and schools skirt, her Gryffindor tie flapping in the light breeze. Ernie's Hufflepuff tie was partially undone and he was smiling at something Hermione said. She began laughing, and soon Ernie was too, and Hermione tripped, falling to the ground, pulling Ernie with her. Both of them were on the ground, laughing at whatever was so funny. You glared at the two, your face turning dangerously red.

And you won't even pretend you didn't hear the whistles Fred and George did under their breaths when Hermione walked into the Great Hall one morning for breakfast, her hair tied loosely into a ponytail. Her teeth had just been shrunk and she was smiling wide. She blushed of course. Always the modest type.

Now you were in the Great Hall again, this time for the Yule Ball. You hadn't even lasted thirty minutes into it, but you wanted to leave. Anything to get away from Hermione and _Vicky's_ lovely evening.

It should have been you dancing with her, in nice robes, making her laugh. You mentally yell at yourself, upset that you didn't ask her earlier. You don't know why you didn't ask her earlier. She was always there for you. In first year; helping you with wand movements. In second year; she was your outlet. You would sneak into the Hospital Wing when she was petrified and you'd tell her everything. In third year; saving you from what would turn out to be Sirius Black's animagus.

Her hair glistened in the light of the dance floor, looking extremely soft, and for a moment you picture yourself in the future, running your hands through her hair.

Immediately, you shake that thought out of your head as she walks over to you and Harry. You forgot he was next to you. You look around and notice your date has gone missing, but you don't care. Hermione sits next to Harry and breaths heavy. She's fanning herself with her hand, and laughing airily.

"Hot, isn't it?" she asks you both. "Viktor's gone to get us some drinks. Care to join us?"

At that moment, you lose it.


	6. Hogwarts Express

**A/N: I probably should be doing my English homework, but I don't like that. Also, why do I keep throwing Ernie and his Hufflepuff friends into this? Badger pride, I guess. One more thing: I've probably gotten some of the stuff wrong from Peter Pan. I was trying my best to remember. **

**Words: 749.  
>Couples: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Written on: September 6, 2011.**

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><p><em>[hogwarts express]<em>

You're sitting in the train, bored out of your mind. Harry's gone somewhere, and you figure its to talk to Fred and George about something. Maybe Ginny. Even Cho. All you know is that he left you and Hermione in the compartment, only an hour into the train ride. You have at least five more to go, maybe more. You never paid much attention to how long these things were.

Hermione's flipping through some book. On the cover it has a small boy clad in green with red hair. Your head turns to the side curiously. The cover says in bold letters '**PETER PAN**'. You figure it's a muggle fairytale, but then again, you aren't sure, because your dad's read you, Ginny, and your brothers most of them, and you've never read this one.

You stand up unsteadily and move to the seat that's next to Hermione since you were sitting opposite her. Her hair's braided, and not as frizzy since it's pulled back. She's wearing a slightly too big t-shirt and jeans. Her shirt oddly looks like something your mum would knit, but you don't want to say anything. You don't know how she'll take it. You've seen her give you this weird smile every time you walk down the boys dormitories in your mum's Weasley sweaters.

She looks up at you, and scrunches her eyebrows together. You nod towards the book.

"What's it about?"

She looks down, and smiles. "Can I read some to you?" she asks excitedly.

You smile back at her, your face turning the infamous Weasley red. Curious, Fred or George have never turned this color.

"—and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies', there is a fairy somewhere that drops down dead," Hermione reads from the torn book. She looks up at you, blushing, and you suddenly realize that somehow your arm has ended up behind her shoulders.

You remove it quickly, but regret it. It was strangely warm by her, and her hair is actually really soft you realize.

"What's it about?" you ask again.

"Oh! Well, it's about a girl named Wendy and a boy named Peter. Peter invites her to Neverland, where he and the Lost Boys live. She agrees to go as long as her younger brothers John and Michael can go. They take a magical flight to Neverland, but Wendy almost gets killed," she says happily. "A lot of other things happen, but soon Wendy falls in love with Peter. Well, Wendy gets kidnapped—Peter's told by his fairy Tinkerbell."

She stops to take a breath, and you decide it's a good time to interrupt.

"Like our type of fairies?"

"No, not exactly."

"Oh."

"Continuing. She got captured by Captain Hook. Peter goes to the ship to save Wendy. He defeats Hook and sails the ship back to London. Wendy decides she's happier at home, and Peter tries to get her to stay with him. She won't, of course, because she misses her mother. The end of the books goes like this," she explained, flipping the pages fairly fast, "—you won't forget to come for me, Peter? Please, please don't forget."

You laugh because she's so dramatic when she reads. She hits you with the book, but laughs with you.

You're about to say something else, but Ernie Macmillan walks into the compartment, his friend Justin Finch-Fletchley following him in the back.

"Pardon me, but do you mind if I take Hermione for a bit. I'll only need her for a second," he asks.

You're about to growl and tell him to shove it, but Hermione smiles, and agrees. She promises to be back in a second so you don't have to stay in the compartment alone. She sets her book down and walks out as Ernie smirks at you.

The train shifts a little, and her book falls off the seat. You pick it up, and the words that it stopped at go into your brain. **"To die would be an awfully big adventure."**

You set the book down by Crookshanks' carrier, and set your head onto the back of the seat. Your too long hair falls into your face, and you move it out the way.

You fall asleep, only to be awoken by Hermione announcing her arrival back in the compartment. You smile happily as she asks if she can read you more of the book.


	7. Expecto Patronum

**A/N: I don't know how to feel about this one. **

**Words: 501.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written: September 10-11, 2011.**

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><p><em>[expecto patronum]<em>

You're in the Room of Requirement with everyone in the D.A. Harry's telling everyone about a Patronus, and how to make one. You're next to Hermione, and her hair's braided down her back. On the other side of her is Ernie Macmillan, and in your opinion, his hand is a little too close to her's.

Harry says to get your patronus, you have to think of your happiest memory and yell out, "**Expecto Patronum**!" He says everyone should try it themselves. Susan Bones asks for an example, and Harry pauses for a second, his eyes closed. He opens them a few seconds later, calling out "Expecto Patronum!"

A large stag appeared in the middle of the room and it ran around for a second before disappearing. Everyone clapped except for Zacharias Smith, though he did look surprised.

You stand up with everyone else, and go start thinking of your happiest memory.

There's that time where your mum got you your new broom for making Prefect. When Fred and George got in trouble for turning your teddy bear into a spider, and to make it up to you, they had to do what you said. When Hermione hugged you in third year after you said you'd help her with the Buckbeak trial. Maybe that time where you and your brothers went go get her from her house over the summer to bring her to the Burrow, and she hugged you longer than Fred or George. Then what about the time she kissed you on the cheek?

You decide to use the last memory.

She's on the other side of the room, and you hear her yell out, "Expecto Patronum!" before an otter comes out. Its flying across the room, running under the legs of Ginny's horse patronus and between Fred's and George's.

You hold your wand tight, yelling out, "Expecto Patronum!" A Jack Russell terrier shoots out of your wand and immediately begins chasing Hermione's otter. She makes her way over to you, laughing as her otter tries to get ahead of your terrier.

"You know," she says, "that the otter is usually chased into the water by a terrier. Otter's have always been my favorite animal. They're a part of the weasel family."

With that said, her otter disappears and so does your terrier. Hermione smiles at you before running off to help Colin Creevey achieve his own patronus.

You're suddenly very jealous that Hermione's hand is covering Colin's so she can show him the proper hand movements. You know he doesn't like her, though, because you heard Ginny say he fancied some Hufflepuff in his year. You see Colin smile gratefully and say a quick thank you before trying to spell again.

Hermione walks back over to you and laughs. "I like this."

You couldn't agree more as she asks if you want to practice the spell once more. Your terrier chases her otter around the room until Harry comes over.


	8. Lavender Anne Brown

**A/N: I haven't updated in a while**—**I've had a lot of school projects and CCD classes mixed with football games the band plays at. I hope this makes up for it. **

**Words: 531.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger<strong>**.  
>Date Written On: September 25, 2011.<strong>

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><p><em>[lavender anne brown]<em>

You're sitting in the common room, Lavender hanging onto you like her life depended on it. She's giggling about something with Parvarti, who's looking at both of you with envy. You're not exactly sure why.

As Lavender giggles once more, you wince. The sound's loud and painful considering she's basically on top your lap. You feel her kiss your cheek, a loud "**mwah**" sound coming from her mouth. When she unlatches her lips from your face, it feels distinctly wet. You resist the urge to wipe your face.

Glancing at the corner of the room, you see Hermione surrounded by books, and you smile, forgetting that you're suppose to be mad at her for snogging Krum. She's scribbling furiously at her parchment, her nose almost touching the page. Her messy hair's all over the place, and she's clad in muggle jeans and a light purple shirt.

You watch as Cormac McLaggen struts towards her, a smirk plastered on his face. He leans over the chair Hermione's sitting in, his burly frame covering her from your view.

Lavender hits your arm at that moment. "Won Won, what's your middle name?" she giggles out.

"Um, Bilius," you mutter out, turning your face towards her's. She's extremely close.

She throws her head back in loud laughter. "_Bilius_?"

"I was named after my uncle."

She laughs again, her straight white teeth gleaming. Pavarti's looking at you both again.

"Aren't you going to ask my middle name?" Lavender demands.

"Er—what's your middle name?"

"Anne!" she announces.

"Oh—well that's—that's a nice name," you stutter out.

In the corner of your eye, you see McLaggen get up from where he was crowding Hermione. Neville appeared suddenly, sitting next to Hermione, talking very fast. You watch as McLaggen stalks away angrily, and Hermione sighs, shoving her hair behind her ear, looking intently at Neville.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Lavender says loudly so the whole common room would hear her. You see Neville and Hermione's heads snap up, both of them rolling their eyes in synchronized motions.

Lavender bends over and catches your lips with hers, and you kiss back, but it feels stranger than it did before. You pull away and she pouts childishly, before grabbing Parvarti's hand and rushing off towards her dorm.

You stay sitting in the same chair for a while, watching the fire burn. You look over and Neville's hugging Hermione tightly. Your eyes turn into slits as you watch her hug him back.

_She can't fancy him. They're only friends, _your mind reasons with you.

You shake your ginger hair around as Neville walks past you, muttering a short, "'Night, Ron." Hermione follows him, and you say before thinking, "Hey, wait!"

She turns around and automatically her arms fold across her stomach. "Yes, Ronald?"

"What's your middle name?" you blurt out.

"Jean. I've told you this already," she says cautiously.

"Oh—erm, right."

She looks at you oddly for a second before heading up the stairs, books in tow.

You realize you like Hermione Jean Granger a lot more than you like Lavender Anne Brown.


	9. Tears

**A/N: I'm not really proud of this one, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, so this is all I could come up with.**

**Words: 539.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written On: September 29, 2011.**

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><p><em>[tears]<em>

"Who am I?" Hermione questions tightly as she points her wand at your face. Since the war had begun again, this was necessary.

"Hermione Jean Granger," you say, exhaling. "You're of age in the wizarding community, best friends with Ronald Bilius Weasley and Harry James Potter. In first year, we helped you escape a troll. Second you were turned into a cat, and third we helped in the trial against Buckbeak. Fourth year was the year of Vicky and fifth was the year of Umbridge. Fred and George left during OWLS. In sixth year, I dated Lavender _Anne _Brown until we broke up."

Her wand lowers a bit, and she hugs you tightly. You hold her close to you as your head gets covered by her hair. In the distance, you hear a muggle television on.

"Hermione?" you hear her mum call out, and Hermione pulls away. She has tears in her eyes as you grab her hand, smiling slightly as encouragement.

"Coming, mum," she says, her voice cracking. She tightens her grip on her wand, letting go of your hand.

"Let's go," you whisper, walking closely behind her as she walks into the sitting room.

It looks the same as it had when you fell into it during the summer of fourth and fifth year. The carpet was white, and the TV (you learned what it was last year) was still in the corner in front of the couch. There were a few more pictures darting the wall, all of them of Hermione with relatives. There was one, though, of Harry, you, and Hermione.

You're surprised.

Hermione stops in front of the couch, behind her parents' heads. She points her wand at them, and grabs your hand suddenly. She's choking on her sobs and you pat her on the back, wrapping your arms around her shoulder. You want to whisper something to comfort her, but her parents don't know you're here, and you'd rather them not know.

She mutters something and suddenly, the pictures of her that were surrounding you, dissolve. The frames and backgrounds and other people were still in them, but Hermione's missing in all of them. There's one with her mum, now just standing there was a cake that says, 'Happy FIRST Birthday'. _It's really sad_, you think.

"We have to leave," she says quickly, taking your hand and running up the stairs. You stumble after her, and as you're about to enter her room, you hear her dad say, "Where are we?"

Hermione shoves open the door and pushes you in, shutting it quietly but tightly behind her. She locks it throws her wand on the bed.

Her room's a light purple, and there are various books scattered on the wooden floor. Her bedspread is nothing but a white quilt and two pillows. She has pictures on the wall, and a few things from Hogwarts. She throws it all in her bag before grabbing your hand.

You nod and hug her for a split second before standing beside her again, the now usual tug on your navel before you land in your front lawn.

She's in tears again as your mum runs towards you both.


	10. The Wedding

**A/N: I kind of like this one.**

**Words: 767.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written on: October 3, 2011.**

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><p><em>[the wedding]<em>

You're standing in the corner of the room, watching as Viktor talked to Hermione. It's angering you, consider you were the one who was dancing with her. He had no right to waltz right in the door and ask for a dance—to a slow song, no less.

It pissed you off to be honest.

Her lilac dress was framing her perfectly, and that should have been _your_ hands on her waist, not his, and that should have been your joke she was laughing at, not his. Hell, he still couldn't say Hermione right.

Her-my-oh-knee.

The blubbering idiot has known her for how many years and he still can't pronounce her name? It didn't matter that he had an accent and it probably wasn't the easiest thing to say.

You grit your teeth as Ginny walks up next to you, nudging your shoulder. Harry's off talking to Luna's dad, so she had no one to dance with.

"Still jealous?" she asks you causally, grabbing a drink from one of the passing waiters. She takes a long sip before raising her eyebrows. "Hmm?"

You growl at Ginny before playfully pushing her, causing her to run into the table.

"Ow!" she screeches, but laughs when your mum sends you both a heated glare. "What was that for?"

"You deserved it," you laugh as she hits you on the arm. In the corner of your eye, you see Krum kiss Hermione's hand, and she blushes brightly. You're eyes turn to slits.

"Wouldn't be so hung up on him if I were you."

"What are you talking about, Gin?"

"She doesn't fancy him," Ginny states simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anger flashes through you for a moment, and you automatically think it's someone else. Harry, Charlie, Ernie Macmillan, _Zacharias Smith _even. Ginny notices your distress.

"He's a ginger, you idiot."

"That doesn't narrow it down, for your information." You look at her before shaking your hair out of your eyes. "There's Fred, George, Charlie, Percy—damn, there's even Bill, but I don't think she'd ever do that to Fleur, even though she doesn't really like her."

Ginny groans as Hermione starts making her way towards you both, smiling happily. Ginny hugs her before turning to leave, whispering in your ear, "You're _such_ an idiot."

You know that the minute Ginny said "ginger", your heart swelled up in hope. You know you're an idiot, and you know Hermione would be better off liking one of your brothers than you. You hope that she does fancy you, and that all those hugs and kisses on the cheeks weren't platonic. But in your heart, somewhere in there, it's screaming at you: _Don't get your hopes up, Ronnie! She's had Krum, McLaggen, probably even Harry pinning after her! What are you compared to them?_

"Ron?" Hermione's voice questions as she tries to meet your eyes.

"Hey, Hermione," you stumble out. "Let's dance," you add as an after thought. Another slow song has come on, and you want another dance with her before the wedding ends.

You see her cheeks turn pink, and you feel your face heat up, your ears obviously turning red. It's suddenly very hot in your dress robes, and you're tempted to take the long over-coat that goes along with it off, but your mum would have a heart attack.

Going towards the middle of the dance floor, you take one of her hands and hold it tightly, placing your other hand on her waist. She places the hand you're not holding on your shoulder, near the ends of your hair.

After you dance through one song, you pull her closer, putting both of your hands on her waist as she puts her arm behind your neck, playing with the ends of your hair. She's smiling contently, and you look behind her for a moment, noticing that Krum's glaring at you. It makes you ten times happier—international Quidditch star Viktor Krum was jealous of you, Ronald Weasley, for dancing with Hermione Granger.

The song ended and Hermione pulled away, saying something about going find Harry to check on him. You tell her you're going find more butterbeer, and you head towards the table filled with drinks. Bill's laughing and is about to call you over.

All of a sudden you see a Patronus shoot onto the dance floor. The deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt comes out.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_


	11. Come Back

**A/N: Based of pages 305 to 310 of the American version of Deathly Hallows. I've used dialouge from the book and movements to make it close to the book, considering this scene was in it. The Horcrux's voice is in bold, in case you didn't catch it.**

**Words: 1569.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written On: October 10, 2011.**

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><p><em>[come back]<em>

You're laying down, your face set in a frown, staring ahead at Harry and Hermione.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?"

"What?" asked Harry, looking at you before sharing a look with Hermione. She looks at you, and a flicker of pity goes through her eyes. You snort loudly as you flip over, staring at the top of the bunk.

"You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Hermione whispers something that sounds like, "_What_?" and you hear her shuffle her feet back and forth. It's tempting to look at her and try to see what her expression is, but the damned horcrux whispers in your head again.

**She doesn't love you, Ronald Weasley.**

"What's the problem?" Harry asks, sounding slightly agitated and confused.

"Problem? There's not problem," you say in a monotone voice. You're still staring up at the bunk, breathing through your nose. You're positive they can hear it. "Not according to you anyway."

You hear plunks on the canvas about all of your heads, and in that moment in begins to rain, the water pelting on the tent. You squint your eyes in annoyance. _Bloody perfect_, you think.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Spit it out, will you?"

You sit up and swing your too-long legs over the side of the bed, staring at Harry. You're seeing red, and in the corner of your eye, you see Hermione step back, clutching her wand in her hands. She looks absolutely terrified, and for a moment, you're happy about it. Absolutely ecstatic that you are making her scared.

**She'll be running to Harry before long,** the voice croons to you again.

"All right, I'll _spit it out_," you growl. "Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"I don't know?" Harry asks, glaring at you. "_I don't know_?"

The plunking above the tent gets louder, and you figure it's probably pouring down at the moment. It's winter time—the rain drops will be cold and icy.

"It's not like I'm having the time of my life here," you continue your rant, gripping your knees, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron," you distinctly hear Hermione say in the background. Her voice was quiet and scared. You refuse to look at her and let your composer break. The sickly voice speaks again.

**Oh, Ronnie, look at her. Do it. **

"I thought you knew what you signed up for." Harry looks absolutely livid, but his voice is oddly calm.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations?" asks Harry, his voice steadily rising over the pounding of the rain. "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

In that moment, you lose it completely. "We thought you knew what you were doing!" you shout, standing up to your complete height. You're towering over Harry and it feels _great. _"We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

**Good boy**, the grotesque voice croons again. It feels like someone's giving you a pat on the back, congratulating you on something wonderful.

"Ron!" Hermione yells at you.

You ignore her and fight the urge to look into her eyes.

"Well, sorry to let you down," Harry says again. He looks up at you. "I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux—"

"Yeah," you cut him off, nodding your head to the side like your mum does when she understand something. But this time, your face is screwed up into a grimace. "And we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them—nowhere _effing_ near, in other words!"

It's silent for a moment, and you feel some sort of high run through your body.

"Take off the locket, Ron," Hermione says. Her voice is unusually high pitched. Giving in and looking at her, you see pity and depression in her eyes. "Please, take it off," she begs you. "You wouldn't be talking like this is you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah, he would," Harry sneers. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

"Harry, we weren't—"

**She's standing up for him. She loves him, not you,** the voice screams at him, breaking and tearing.

"Don't lie!" you yell at her. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"

Tears streaming down her face, she turns to Harry, her hand covering her mouth as she choked down sobs. "I didn't say it like that—Harry, I didn't!"

The rain was pounding on the tent and Hermione was choking on her sobs even more. Harry was breathing heavily, glaring at you. For some reason, the silence gave the voice time to manifest and begin whispering things in his ear.

**Never have I ever seen someone so weak, Ronald Weasley. You're weak, idiotic, no where near as good as your precious Hermione would want. She only wants The Boy Who Lived, not the Boy Who Couldn't Get The Girl. Not the Boy Who Has Freckles. Not the Boy With More Family Members To Count. No. She doesn't want that. She wants Harry. Harry **_**Potter**_**.**

"So why are you still hear?" Harry asks you.

"Search me." You open your arms and look back and forth between Hermione and Harry.

"Go home then."

"Yeah, maybe I will!" you shout out. You take several steps towards Harry, and you become more infuriated as he stays in the same place. The monster inside your chest roars. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry _I've-Faced-Worse _Potter doesn't care what happens to her in here—well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff—"

"I was only saying—she was with the others, they were with Hagrid—"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured', did you hear that?"

George lost his ear, Charlie's gotten hurt countless times with his dragons, Bill got attacked by a damn werewolf.

"Yeah, I—" Harry stutters out, and you're happy once again. You're breaking through him, and maybe Hermione will see that he isn't as tough as he thinks he is.

"Ron!" she screeches, shoving in between both of you. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about think, Ron, Bill's already scarred, plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your death bed with spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant —"

"Oh, you're sure, are you?" you scream at her. "Right then, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way—"

"My parents are _dead_!" Harry bellows.

"And mine could be going the same way!" you yell at him once more.

"Then GO!" he roars. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"

**There he goes again with your mum, Ronnie. There he goes, **the voice trails off.

You jump at him and see him reach for his wand. In a brief moment, Hermione screams out, "_Protego!_" and you fly backwards, hitting the beds. Harry's standing up from the floor, and you do the same, glaring at him from the barrier, flaring your nostrils.

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry says calmly, though his voice was drenched in hatred.

You wrench the chain from your neck and throw it into a nearby chair. You turn to Hermione swiftly, clenching your knuckles. You feel your fingernails dig into your skin, and distinctly feel blood.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, distressed.

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I…" she drags off. "Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

She choices him.

"I get it. You choose him," you say, glaring at her. The beast inside you jumps for joy.

"Ron, no—please—come back, come back!"

You storm into the night, and you hear her sobbing and calling out your name. "Ron!"

"I'm leaving."

They're the last words you say before Disapparating, a loud crack and familiar tug against your navel greeting you as you see the last of her tear stained face.


	12. Nothing

**A/N: Probably not my best.**

**Words: 1097.  
>Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written On: October 21-22, 2011.**

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><p><em>[nothing]<em>

The Horcrux was still swinging from your hands, twitching ever few moments. Something was inside it and it was getting more and more agitated. Harry held up his wand and walked past you.

"Come here," he said as you follow him. After he stopped at a flattish rock, you try to hand over the sword, but Harry shakes his head indifferently.

"No, you should do it."

"Me?" you ask, obviously shocked. "Why?"

"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's suppose to be you." He paused for a moment. "I'm going to open it, and you stab it. Straightaway, okay? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

_That doesn't help me at all_, you think, terrified. "How are you going to open it?"

"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltoungue," he explained. He began to say whatever he was going to say before you cut in.

"No! No, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not? Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months—"

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious—you do it—"

"But why?"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" you say, backing away from the locket on the stone. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff—stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on—I can't do it, Harry!"

You back away even more, the sword dragging at your side, shaking your head. Your breathing is getting shallower and shallower by the minute.

"You can do it," Harry encouraged, "you can! You've just got the sword, I know it's suppose to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

You swallow and walk towards the rock once more. "Tell me when," you croak out, shifting the sword in your hands.

"On three," Harry says, looking at the locket. "One…two…three…_open_," he hisses the last word and the golden doors of the locket open with a little click.

"Stab," Harry commands, holding the locket on the rock. A blinking eye was moving around.

You raise the sword frantically, but a voice begins hissing out of the Horcrux.

"_I have seen your heart, and it is mine._"

"Don't listen to it," Harry yells harshly. "Stab it!"

"_I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible…_"

"Stab!"

"_Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter…Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend…Second best, always, eternally overshadowed…_"

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellows. You raise the sword higher, and you're about to strike it, but something was beginning to come out of the locket. You stumble a little and the sword tip of the sword threatens to fall to the ground. Two grotesque bubbles—the heads of Hermione and Harry, you realize—came from the locket.

You yell in shock and back away as the figures blossomed from the locket, their bodies following soon after their heads. The stood on the ground, kind of like trees and roots. You see the non-frightening Harry in the background drop the locket, clutching his fingers.

"Ron!"

You didn't hear that as that thing—_Harry_—began talking in the eerie voice that was always coming from the locket. You stared at it.

"_Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence….We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption_—"

"_Presumption!_" Hermione repeated. She looked just like your Hermione, you note, but slightly thinner, and her hair wasn't as bushy. She was paler, with no pink covering her cheeks. She swayed and crackled, but you still couldn't look away. The sword fell numbly to your side. "_Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared to the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?_"

In the back of your mind, you hear, "Ron, stab it, STAB IT!", but you don't move. You can't move. At all, really.

"_Your mother confessed,_" Harry begins as Hermione crackles evilly, "_that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange…_"

"_Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,_" Hermione croons. She stretches herself towards Harry and their lips met.

You stare at them, but then pain and betrayal crosses your mind again, and you're reminded of the night you left and it hurts worse than ever before. You raise the sword again, your arms shaking violently.

"Do it, Ron!" something yells in the background, and you turn around, glaring at him.

"Ron—?"

You slash the sword through the air and you see what you realize is Harry, the real Harry, jump out of the way and onto the dirt. There was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream.

The scream felt wonderful in your ears.

Hermione and Harry were gone, and you stare at the remains of the locket, breathing heavily. It takes you a moment to realize there are tears in your eyes. _Damn it_, you think.

Harry picks up the locket, obviously pretending he had not seen your eyes. You destroyed the glass in both windows and Riddle's eyes were gone.

You drop the sword to the ground—a loud clanging noise makes your heart jump a little.

Harry walks beside you and puts a hand gently on your shoulder. "After you left," he says in a low voice, "she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never spoke to each other. With you gone…"

A sob was threatening to escape your throat.

"She's like my sister," he reassured you. "I love her like a sister and I reckons she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."

You turn your head away from him and wipe your nose noisily on your sleeve. The tears broke through and you had to wait a few moments before you could compose yourself. You knew your face and eyes were red.

You were an idiot, but at least you knew you'd never leave her again.


	13. Weasley Sweaters

**A/N: I'm not happy with this, but I needed a filler type chapter.**

**Words: 541.  
>Pairing: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written On: Various dates to Novemeber 9, 2011.**

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><p>[<em>weasley sweaters<em>]

She's sitting down on watch again, and you've only been back a few days. Harry and yourself were just discussing the last of the Lovegood plan before he decided to turn in for the night.

It's still cold outside, and she's wearing a light grey long-sleeved shirt that's hugging her for warmth, along with a thick jacket, a scarf, and a blanket covering her jean-clad legs. It looks like it's about to snow outside again, and little particles of snow from the last storm are falling gently from the trees and landing in her hair and on her book.

Looking on your bunk, you see your old Weasley sweater that your mum knit you last winter. It's beginning to look frayed at the arms and there's a tear near the bottom. Glancing at her once more, you grab the sweater in your hands before walking slowly to the opening of the tent.

You cough quietly to catch her attention. She jumps and turns around, her hand gripping her wand. She relaxes a little when she sees it's you, but then she tenses up again and turns her back, facing the dark woods.

Considering she didn't throw a curse at you—or anything at you, really—you walk out the tent, the chilly air already making you shiver. You sit down in the snow next to her, and she crosses her arms, but she scoots towards you and puts part of the blanket over your legs. You smile slightly before moving over closer to her, fixing the blanket to cover most of your legs and her's.

"So, Hermione…" you trail off lamely, cursing yourself because you know you've just ruined a moment, and you shake your head before looking down, waiting for her to yell at you once more.

When that doesn't happen, you look up and see her looking up at the stars, drops of snow falling from the sky. "It's gorgeous," she breaths out, looking at you before letting a small smile escape.

She isn't that mad at you anymore, you figure.

"Of course it is," you whisper, before fingering the sweater in your hands.

"What's that?"

"S'nothing," you shrug before holding the sweater in front of you both. The maroon jumper was hard to see, but the bright orange "R" was very visible.

"It's your mum's sweaters," she says simply, as if you didn't know this already.

"Well…yeah, I mean—yeah."

It's silent for a moment while she shifts under the covers, looking around towards the woods. She wraps her arms over her stomach, shivering from the cold air. You hold the sweater over to her. "You want to wear it?" you ask, thankful that the darkness of the winter night wasn't showing your face, which was probably redder than your hair.

She looks up at you, surprised, before smiling kindly. She grabs the sweater from your hands and puts it on quickly, hugging it to her. "Thanks, Ronald," she says softly.

"You're welcome," you say, smiling because you actually like the way she looks in your clothes. They're baggy and the sleeves easily cover her hands.

She smiles back at you, and for a moment, you're happy again. The whole fiasco of this hunt is taken from your mind.


	14. Shell Cottage

**A/N: I haven't written for a while, so... here you go?**

**Words: 611.  
>Paring: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written On: December 3, 2011.**

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><p>[<em>shell cottage<em>]

She was out cold, and she was scarred. You could see that much. Fleur refused to go into detail about what was covering her, and the marks and cuts and burns remained a mystery. The thin cut on her neck makes a wave a nausea overcome you, and Bill has to grip your shoulder, or you were sure you'd collapse.

Bill carries her up the stairs, and Fleur follows closely behind him, muttering things in French, holding various potions near her. It only takes a few moments, and then Bill's back down the stairs, minus Fleur and Hermione. The latter being still gone makes you frown unhappily, and you have to rub your eyes to make the fresh batch of tears that were threatening to escape go back.

"It's going to be alright, Ron," Bill says quietly.

"It won't," you mutter, resting your arms on your legs and putting your head on them. You know you look ridicules, but with everything that's happened, does it really matter? Your hair's still matted together, and you still have cuts, but all you can think about is Hermione, and how she can still die, and how you couldn't get to her.

"How do you know that?"

"I wasn't there to protect her."

Your answer's blunt, and you look up to meet Bill's gaze. It's obvious he doesn't know what to say because the person he loves—the person that loves him _back_—is safe, and she'll always be safe, and she'd never get tortured like your Hermione did. Never, ever, ever.

He clears his throat, and offers weakly, "Would you like some tea?"

"I guess," you say, standing up and following him into the kitchen area. You're thirsty and you're starving, but again, all you can think of is _Hermione._

It's silent for a few moments, both of you sipping your tea and picking at the bread Bill set down. You can hear Fleur shuffling around upstairs in the room they put Hermione, and you can hear a groan every few moments. It's breaks your heart, but it also brings a little joy because you can tell she's alive.

It's only when Fleur comes down, her hair a mess, a distressed but happy smile on her face that your heart flutters again. She nods at you, and you bolt up the stairs, a soft, "Be gentle," coming from the kitchen. Stopping at the door, you turn the knob a little before peeking in. Hermione's lying on the bed in an old nightgown, and she looks cleaner than before. You see her turn her head and smile a little at you.

"Hey, Ron."

"Hey? You almost died and all you say is hey?" you ask, baffled. You walk slowly into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You sit down near her feet on the bed.

She laughs a little, but a pained look comes across her face, and she stops quickly. She nods weakly, smiling only a bit.

Just like it was in the kitchen, it's silent for a few moments. You yawn tiredly, and Hermione looks at you as good as she can without lifting her head.

"Come lie down," she whispers.

Your heart jumps for a moment, and you slowly crawl next to her, pulling back the covers and getting yourself settled under them. You touch her face.

"You're amazing, you are."

"I know."

She turns her head and looks at you before closing her eyes. You do the same, and you fall asleep quickly. You have a feeling it has to do with being next to her, and knowing she's going to be safe from now on until forever.


	15. Time

**A/N: I don't know what this is.. A filter chapter possibly.**

**Words: 241.  
>Pairing: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.<br>Date Written on: February 22, 2012.**

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><p>[<em>time<em>]

_It's time, Ron. It's time._

The phrase is imprinted in your mind. That's all she's been saying lately. And you're not sure why.

It's time, Ron. It's time, it's time, it's time, and again, it's time.

But, what's it time for?

Obviously, there are many things it can be time for, and you realize that as your helping her get ready to make the Polyjuice Potion. There's Hogwarts, and the questions about if it's going to survive whatever's bound to take place there. Her parents, and the questions about if they're alive and well and happy because they'll never know they have a daughter who's risking her own life to save the wizarding world.

Then there's Harry, oh, how she loves to mention Harry to you.

"Ron?"

Her voice is short, quiet, and you jump, your knees hitting the table.

"Yeah?" you ask, rubbing the spot on your knee slowly. She coughs a little, putting a strand of frizzy hair behind her ear.

She's mixing the potion again, and Harry's in the kitchen, and Luna's talking to Bill, and Fleur's making some type of French dinner for some unknown reason because she knows soon you, Harry, and Hermione are going to be leaving, and any fancy dinners are going to go to waste if Shell Cottage is destroyed.

"It's time."

Standing up, you look over her chair.

You know what she means now.

The potion's ready. It's time for Gringotts.


End file.
